Maybe this band of riders had checked the almanac before heading out today, for heaven took pity at last: before anything could happen, the person in the carriage noticed the commotion. A slender, fair hand pushed open the carriage window. The escort captain riding alongside understood at once, drew near, tilted his ear and listened a moment, then barked the death-courting rider to a halt and rode over, asking directly, "What's going on?"
This lot truly moved on command. The young fool striding boldly toward the abyss of self-destruction stopped at once, shot Sun Lang a hard glare, and reported indignantly to his captain. The captain got the gist of it, first eyeing Sun Lang with displeasure, then giving his own subordinate a look that said are you out of your goddamn mind. But the young miss had asked, and matters having come this far, it was no longer his to decide as a mere escort captain... So he glanced at Sun Lang again and ordered his men, "Keep an eye on him. I'll go report to the young miss and let her deal with it."
Several riders pressed in around Sun Lang with ill intent. They sat astride tall horses, and needed only urge their mounts forward a few steps to wedge this errant-who-knew-not-the-height-of-heaven in their midst — three or four great horse-heads jostling at him, to see how the lad would cope.
Sun Lang shot them an offhand sidelong glance. Wherever his gaze fell, these seemingly well-trained horses promptly let out uneasy whinnies and began circling in place. However their riders shouted and urged, the spirit-sensing beasts would not advance another step... And before the riders could connect their mounts' strange behavior to the small errant before them, a graceful figure stepped out of the carriage.
She was tall and slender, dressed in close-fitting traveling clothes, ink-black hair to her waist, her features lovely, her eyes long and clear — giving an impression of sharp, capable, cold beauty. Stepping out, she stood in the carriage's front box, steadied herself with a hand on the rail, and glanced back, her keen gaze sweeping once over Sun Lang. Her dark brows lifted slightly, and then she sprang down and walked over.
Seeing her dismount, the riders swung down at once to attend her, gazing at this dashing woman with reverence — and a trace of infatuation and longing besides. The riders who'd surrounded Sun Lang hastily pulled their horses back, not forgetting to leave him a threatening watch-your-mouth glare.
"I wonder what grudge there is between you and my household?" The woman came over and cupped her hands in salute, like a man — her words and bearing easy and gracious. "Why the harsh words?"
"Harsh words?" Sun Lang tipped up his chin and smiled. "Fine horses and fragrant carriage, an escort in train, all this pomp and grand display — calling you a rich dog isn't going too far, is it? Your guards take offense at a passerby's idle remark and reach for force, not a scrap of tolerance among them — with bodyguards like these, calling you a rich dog isn't going too far, is it? We're all human. You were born to fine clothes and rich food, with an entourage front and back just to burn a stick of incense at a temple, while I have to scramble for a living and travel on my own two legs — calling you a rich dog isn't going too far, is it? You've got countless running-dogs slaving for you, and one offhand word from me gets me threatened by those dogs. Which womb you're born into is fixed by heaven; you enjoy it all in idleness while I have to fight for everything with my own two hands. The world's that unfair, and I only cursed 'rich dog' — is that going too far? Besides, this mouth's on my own face. I didn't curse you behind your back; I said it to your face, offhand, neither dodging nor hiding, open and aboveboard. How does that wrong you in the slightest?"
The woman paused, then smiled. "You misunderstand, sir. I am merely the household's steward. But there's no small error in what you say. My master's house has been loyal and upright for generations — in the saddle they guard the realm, out of it they plead the people's cause. In the Tianyuan War, valiant souls of our house marched off and died on the battlefield. We dare not style ourselves a house of every virtue, but we have built bridges and mended roads, opened our granaries and given relief. For you to brand us 'rich dogs' without rhyme or reason is rather too much."
This steward spoke with real skill — not only hinting obliquely at the master house's standing, but striking back at Sun Lang on the moral plane. Hearing it, the riders each wore a look of shared, glowing pride, their eyes full of arrogance and scorn for Sun Lang... this lad who knew not the height of heaven.
"...Don't make me laugh." Sun Lang gave a cold snort. "The Tianyuan War dragged on for decades. How many fallen souls came home wrapped in horsehide? Is yours the only house that lost people? Your house slaved for the country and eats the imperial grain — and judging by this pomp and swagger, did the nation shortchange you? You've a member dead for the realm, and you eat the imperial grain — how would the court not have granted pensions and rewards, titles passed down to your descendants? Since the nation never shortchanged you, then don't go boasting of it, and don't imagine yourselves so grand. In that war, the ones who died weren't only the valiant martyrs and loyal ministers of your official, wealthy houses — far more of the dead were the nameless soldiers those martyrs led."
"Those unknown foot soldiers who fell in the war shed their last drop of blood for this nation too, parted forever from their kin — fathers losing sons, wives losing husbands. Their families got only a meager pension, and lost their loved ones forever, to pass the rest of their lives in grief and remembrance... Your house feels wronged at being called 'rich dog' once. Where do the wrongs of those dead foot soldiers go to be heard?"
"And don't forget — those foot soldiers died on the battlefield protecting not only their families, but this nation, and..." The errant lifted his head a touch, regarding the riders coldly. "...and the precious privilege of you rich dogs to go on lording it over ordinary mortals and surrounding an errant at your whim — by the by, your house's fallen martyrs, in the end, died for that grand purpose too."
The steward changed color in a flash, but the riders were angrier still. As the saying goes, when the master is insulted the servant should die — their fury blazed up in an instant. Perhaps the errant's mockery and cold smile had struck something deep within them that they'd never dared to face.
The riders roared as one and drew their blades, the gleaming edges flashing in the sun, killing intent spilling out — about to spill this master-offending errant's blood across three feet of ground!
"A pack of dead grunts. Strip off the armor and they forget their own names." Sun Lang lifted the wooden box at his side onto his palm and laid his hand on the latch. "Today I got a new toy, so I don't need to play with you lot barehanded. Which means... count yourselves lucky."
Just as the clash was about to erupt, a great rush of footsteps came from within the temple — the monks had discovered the conflict and reported it to the abbot, and several old monks were hurrying out with a crowd of younger ones in tow.
"Stop, all of you!"
At the same moment, a soft but firm cry came from the direction of the carriage. The furious steward and the riders whipped around as if struck by lightning, then rapidly fell back, ringing the carriage and fixing their eyes hard on Sun Lang. The steward sprang nimbly up onto the carriage and steadied a young woman stepping out of the cabin. "Young miss, let me handle this..."
"Handle it how? Beat this gentleman half to death, then pay some medicine money and send a few gifts to the Errant Guild with our apologies?" The girl shook her head. "He only said a few words, and you'd beat him, even kill him? Punishing words with violence — that's far too tyrannical and overbearing. And besides, he wasn't wrong about anything."
She took the steward's hand and stepped down with great care, walked a few paces forward, and gazed at Sun Lang, dipping into a graceful curtsy. A veil covered the girl's face, but those rippling, autumn-water eyes alone could stir endless reverie in a man, and the powder-pink gown wrapped her lovely figure into a bud about to bloom — like a rose.
The girl spoke softly in a clear, melodious voice: "What you said, sir, I deeply agree with. It's only that the world is unjust, and a mere woman cannot change it. So all I can do is burn incense in earnest, chant and pray each day for all the heroes who died on the battlefield, and give the poor more clothing, food, and medicine... Today my family offended you; please forgive them. They are not bad people. I was orphaned and alone from a young age, seldom with kin, and in their eyes I am like a little sister. When their sister is wronged, the brothers naturally won't stand idly by. I beg your understanding, and I'll keep them better in check from now on..."
She spoke in a small, soft voice, not throwing her weight around but humbling herself instead. Hearing it, the riders' breathing quickened one and all, their faces stirred, ready to die for the young miss on the spot then and there — and the looks they turned on Sun Lang grew fouler still. You bastard. Such a fine young miss, and you'd have the heart to call her a rich dog?
...A pack of morons. She plays the big-brother card and they're this worked up?
Sun Lang looked at this seemingly frail, pitiable, lovely girl, seemed to see through something, and frowned slightly. With the temple's monks now out as well, today's chance to show off was a bust... That being so, there was no need to linger. He nodded carelessly. "If there's nothing else, then I'll take my leave."
"Off you go, then." The young miss nodded with reserve, then turned and left on the steward's arm — not returning to the carriage but heading straight for the eminent monks emerging from the temple gate, leaving behind only a lovely silhouette, with no further word or pause... Her purpose in stepping down to speak with Sun Lang seemed only to have been to defuse the conflict; beyond that, their lives should never cross again, so there was no need for pleasantries.
The riders led their horses and followed, not forgetting to shoot Sun Lang a glare before they went.
The rider who'd started it felt he'd lost a little face and come away with nothing for it. He pointed his whip at Sun Lang and left a low threat: "Boy, count yourself lucky today. Don't let me see you again."
Sun Lang smiled, utterly unbothered, and cupped his hands. "Sure, sure, brother. I'd happily leave you my address, but that'd be a bit unfair to you, so let's leave it to fate. Next time, if fate sees us meet and you go spewing filth again, you'll have only your own bad luck to blame."
"Lunatic!" Hearing the rambling spiel, the rider gave a cold snort. In the end, mindful of his master's order, he didn't dare act rashly, and could only commit Sun Lang's face to memory, resolving to make the lad pay someday.
Mercy, mercy. This doesn't count as fishing for a chance to show off. If he comes looking later, that's him delivering his own face to my door...